


Can't Take the Person Staring Back at Me

by jolybird



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolybird/pseuds/jolybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4AM, Campus Library. Bossuet is working on his thesis (as you do at 4AM) when he decides it's high time to visit his favorite friend who happened to be working overnight in the basement archives. </p>
<p>Bossuet bursting through his office door screaming about ghosts honestly wasn't the weirdest thing that'd ever happened to Feuilly at work. </p>
<p>Written for Les Mis Rare Pairs Week 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Take the Person Staring Back at Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from P!nk's Hazard to Myself (which I honestly didn't know was titled that until I checked). 
> 
> Written for [Les Mis Rare Pair Week 2016](http://lesmisrarepairs.tumblr.com/). I love this week so much okay, I have like eight fics started right now for it. Please check out everything everyone's making for it!!
> 
> Please forgive that I basically Americanized the French University system. I started doing research but then got distracted by the price of university vs my American debt and just closed out the window wishing I had studied French in high school lol.

Bossuet stared at the thick book in front of him, he was currently reading about the American museum of natural history and the bronze face of Theodore Roosevelt. He honestly had no idea what the statue had to do with Creative Activism or even why he thought it was a good idea to pick that class as an elective in the first place. At the time, he thought it was hilarious to get credit for what he was doing in his spare time anyway but now it was just one thing after another and he sort of wanted a break between personal and Uni life. 

He glanced up and looked at the woman perusing the shelves several aisles over from him. He could see her through the shelves and he raised his eyebrow, her hair was a gigantic curly, hair sprayed mess pushed back with a scarf tied in a bow, her jacket was big and boxy, patterned with something that Prouvaire would have undoubtedly instantly lusted over. She wore blue lace tights underneath a miniskirt and there was something about her that was just...distracting. 

Not in an attractive or lustful way, just...she seemed out of place like she clashed with the bookshelves. And it wasn’t her outfit, heaven knows that Prouvaire had rolled into the library wearing a brighter, more eclectic ensemble but it was just...her hands as she trailed her fingers over the spines were so pale they were almost grey and--

The girl paused as if she knew Bossuet was being a creep and staring at her and she turned her head slightly before she walked down the aisle.

Bossuet glanced down at the notebook in front of him, feeling totally guilty for making her uncomfortable, and then back up but she was gone. 

But…

With the way the library was laid out, she would have had to sprint to get out of his line of sight so quickly. 

He suppressed a shudder and the nagging whispers of ghosts as he told himself she probably just ducked down to see a lower shelf and then turned the page of his book. He continued reading for several long minutes before he got the sensation of being watched. He rubbed his arms because he was over dramatic and had goosebumps and then glanced up. 

From the corner of his eye he saw a reflection of something in the window and when he looked to it, he flinched away--it was the girl from the bookshelf and she was staring at him. He turned to apologize but--

There was no one there. 

His body reacted on instinct, he grabbed his phone and all but sprinted to the staircase. He raced down the stairs unable to shake the feeling of eyes watching him. She had been standing just a couple feet from him but she wasn't there. There was no one there. Two flights of stairs and he was sure he was going to scare whoever was at the front desk on night shift but he continued down another flight and then another with one destination in mind--the basement archives. 

He reached the basement floor and sprinted into the dark stacks, the lights with their belated sensors flickered on in his wake but he was headed for the tiny office tucked away behind the map collection. The warm orange light was his haven and he crashed through the door and slammed it shut behind him. 

“What the fuck--” came the very, very welcomed sound of his friend’s voice and then, “What the _fuck_ Bossuet I swear if--”

“There’s a ghost on the second floor.” He gasped, and then realized how stupid he sounded. 

Feuilly glanced to him and the phone gripped in his hand, his knuckles white. Bossuet knew he thought he was absolutely pissed right now, but  _holy shit_ her reflection had been  _right next to him_ but she _hadn't been there_.  “Sit down, here I have a thermos with dirty chai. Caffeine is the last thing you need right now...what time is it? Oh good, nearly four already.” Feuilly handed him the thermos and Bossuet sat down on the bench he had helped carry into the office himself and gratefully took a sip. Feuilly leaned against the wall across from him and crossed his arms,  “What are you doing in the library at nearly four in the morning?”

He shrugged, “Working on my thesis. I need to get most of it done early so--”

“You can go fuck off to Argentina for ‘Chetta’s sister’s wedding with her and Joly?” Bossuet could see the moment Feuilly decided he wasn't drunk off his ass, if there was one thing he was serious about right now, it was this vacation.  


Bossuet grinned and handed him the thermos back, “Yeah.” 

Feuilly put it down as he organized the papers on his desk for a long moment and then turned back towards him, running a hand over his red hair pulled back into a ponytail, “Let’s go get your stuff, why are you up there anyway? Honestly I’m offended you're not down here keeping me company.” 

“I wanted to concentrate. Plus I couldn't remember if you were working nights still.” 

"The office is being used during the day for another half a week still, I can finally have daylight hours again next Thursday. I think Combeferre's more excited than I am because he and Jehan come here to make out after their night class. It's so cute how he thinks I don't know." Feuilly laughed and didn’t wait for him to follow before he headed out back towards the stairs. Bossuet scooped the thermos up so he'd be able to hold onto something and followed after him.  

When he caught up with him, Feuilly glanced over, “Did you run all the way down here?”

Bossuet narrowed his eyes and began to climb back up the stairs, “I don't need that kind of attitude this early in the morning.”

“I don't remember the last time you ran that quickly before.” 

“I used to run track.”

Feuilly turned and laughed loudly, “Really?”

“Is everything alright?” A woman’s voice called out and Bossuet fully expected to see the woman from the stacks standing in front of them. Instead of curly hair, the woman in front of them had an asymmetrical bob. Her arms were crossed over her chest and Bossuet rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“Sorry. I freaked myself out.”

Her wary expression turned into a smile, “How long have you two been here? I haven't seen anyone all shift.”

“Uh--not even a girl wearing like...an outfit straight from the eighties?” Bossuet asked and Feuilly's eyes lit up. Good, at least one of them was entertained by this. He really needed to get this thesis out of the way so he could concentrate on convincing Joly to pack his dinosaur cane (he said it wasn't formal enough but if Bossuet made the T-Rex a little bowtie, he was pretty sure he could be persuaded differently).  


She shrugged and shook her head, “nope, but who knows how many people are in the library right now. I know this one senior who straight up made camp in the philosophy section for two days last year.”

Feuilly groaned and Bossuet sighed, “all the theatrics and yet he _still_ didn't pass.”

She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth, “You know him?”

“He’s the one who kept bringing in s'mores.” Feuilly explained and, yeah, damn, those had been some good s'mores too.  


The woman’s eyes lit up, “oh nice, they were delicious! I loved that you used chocolate chip cookies instead of graham crackers.” 

“R is a man of sophisticated tastes.” Bossuet agreed, craving cookies now.  


Feuilly gave Bossuet a little push, “We’re getting his things and then going back to my office.” 

“You get off in like an hour right?” 

Feuilly nodded, already pushing Bossuet up the next flight of stairs. 

“Lucky, I’m here till seven. Have fun studying!” 

Bossuet groaned theatrically and let Feuilly push him up the stairs. 

“So, how’d you freak yourself out? Thought you saw someone?” He asked after a minute in which Bossuet made plans to roast some marshmallows for lunch.  


“I _know_ I saw someone. There was someone there with me, I saw her reflection watching me and then when I went to apologize, there was no one there and so I ran.” 

Feuilly laughed as they turned the corner and went up another flight of stairs, “I knew it had to be one of you guys. Who else would sprint through the dark straight to my office.” 

“If you give me a minute I’m sure I can come up with a list.”  Bossuet scowled and then, as they started walking across the library floor towards his things, shouted, “Sorry I was a dick before, you startled me.” 

No answer. 

He watched Feuilly glance to him from the corner of his eye as they reached the desk and he started gathering up his papers (of which he probably had too many) and books (of which he  _ definitely  _ had too many). As he was shoving them into his bag, Feuilly gasped, “Oh--” and Bossuet looked up to where he was staring the the shelves. His eyes narrowed and then walked away from him. 

“Feuilly?” he called, throwing the rest of his things back into his bag and pulling it over his shoulder. He checked his station to make sure he had everything and then followed after him, the last thing he needed was to lose Feuilly to an eighties ghost. He’d probably be into that and everyone would blame him. He didn’t want to be the reason Bahorel and Enjolras cried. He followed Feuilly as he walked the length of the floor and then just stood there as he turned around. 

“I saw her.” His nose scrunched up and his brows furrowed. 

Bossuet turned towards the empty floor and very loudly said, “That’s super rude. We’re leaving.” 

Feuilly raised his hand and Bossuet dropped his bag on the floor, knowing perfectly well what he was going to say, “No wait. You stay over here, I’m going to go on the other side and we’re going to do a sweep. This is really immature.” 

Feuilly walked down the aisle and Bossuet frowned pointedly at his back, it was sort of hypocritical for Feuilly to call anyone immature when he had once bought all his friends animal onesies for Christmas (Joly (lemur) and Grantiare (hammerhead shark) still wore theirs to meetings whenever they felt like matching). He picked his bag up again and followed as Feuilly walked the other side of the room. If there was someone here they were going to flush them out: there were no side rooms on this level and the only way out was through the stairs that were in front of him. Bossuet kept pace and dropped his bag in front of the exit so he didn’t have to lug the twenty pounds of study material the extra ten feet. 

When the reached the final row and didn’t come across anyone, Bossuet just raised his eyebrows in his best imitation of a perfectly calm,  _ I told you so _ . 

He kept his back to as many windows as possible because he was vaguely positive there would be someone watching him from them. He was hyper-aware of the reflection of the bookcases and desks. Feuilly, nose still scrunched and frowning in confusion, met up with him. “I know I saw someone.” 

“Literally, five minutes ago you were making fun of me for this exact thing.” 

“I was making fun of you for sprinting down three flights of stairs moving faster than I’ve ever seen you go before.” 

“You didn’t see me until I crashed through your office door.” 

Their banter continued all the way back down to the basement and only stopped when Bossuet yawned and dropped his books on the floor. He laid out on the bench they had brought for his office when he first got the work-study job. Silently, Feuilly reached into his bag and pulled out a book at random and tossed it to him. “You’re going to be pissed if you have to work on your thesis in Argentina.” 

“Yeah I am.” Bossuet agreed, sitting up a little and opening the book. It had been the one he had previously been taking notes on and this was why Feuilly got this job his first year. He was so good at everything, even grabbing the right book from his bag at random. “I just want you to know, when those lights go out out there, I’m going to cry.” 

Feuilly reached up and pulled the curtains shut. 

Bossuet loved Grantaire. Their friend had installed them two years ago when he’d slip down here for naps during the day. The only reason the staff put up with them was because they were all in love with Feuilly--he probably had a tenured job waiting for him after graduation. 

“Do you want some dirty chai?” 

“Please.” Bossuet sighed, having finished Feuilly's tea on the way back downstairs, and pulled out his notebook. Electronics had a habit of crashing when he needed them most so he had to resort to living in the stone age and write in a notebook. It was usually fine if he wrote in pen, even if an entire bottle of whisky was spilled on it (the tragedy was still fresh in all their minds even though it happened first year). 

Feuilly turned the kettle on (it was probably illegal because it was probably a fire hazard but he was Feuilly so he got away with it) and the pair went about their business as if they hadn’t just encountered a ghost. Every once in a while, Bossuet would tell him what a beautiful combination chai and espresso were, or Feuilly would ask a question about whatever archive work he was doing (so far the best questions were “how many sacks of potatoes do you think a person could reasonably go through in a month” and “how long do you think it’d take for the sole of a shoe to be completely worn out--like pretend you kept wearing it when it started to get holes, how long until the bottom is just gone”). 

Eventually, as the minutes crept by, Bossuet sank lower and lower on the bench and his note-taking became less writing and more turning the page to prove he wasn’t asleep. 

“Come on,” Feuilly said and Bossuet opened his eyes, “are you hungry?” 

“Is it five?” he grumbled, trying to blink himself awake.  


“Yeah. Come on, let’s go back to mine and I’ll make you breakfast.” 

Bossuet slipped his book into his bag, rubbed his eyes and yawned, “This is why you’re my favorite.” He followed after Feuilly as they made their way to his flat. The sun was starting to turn the sky a lighter shade of blue and when they reached the stairs leading up to his flat, Bossuet just sighed heavily. 

“On second thought…” 

Feuilly took his bag, grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs. Bossuet didn’t even have the energy to complain. He was deposited into a kitchen chair and Feuilly immediately began rummaging around. “What do you want?”

“Umm...it’s half five in the morning what else is there but breakfast?”

Feuilly paused and then laughed loudly, Bossuet frowned for Jehan’s sake. He was Feuilly’s flatmate and he was probably still asleep. He opened his mouth to scold him but then he watched as Feuilly pulled shredded coconut from the cabinet and reach into fridge for eggs and pineapple. His teeth clicked shut and his eyes widened, “Are you making coconut pineapple crêpes?”

“Do you want me to make something else?” the redhead didn’t turn around and Bossuet probably would have swooned if he hadn’t been sprawled half out of the chair already. 

“I’ll make some tea to go with it.” 

“Second cabinet left of the sink.” 

Bossuet pushed himself up, all his bones cracked on the way and Feuilly glanced to him, horrified. He ignored the rude look, “Wow thanks, I totally didn’t know where your tea was.” He rummaged through the cabinet, spotted a box of his favorite tea,  and pulled it out before he discovered that it was empty. 

“Shit luck.” Feuilly quipped, flipping a crêpe in one fluid motion. Bossuet mimicked him, yawned, and then pulled out a box of the second best option. 

Silently, the pair went about making breakfast and then Bossuet took their plates into the common room and turned the TV on. Feuilly joined him with the tea and Bossuet stretched his shoulders before digging in. "Thanks for working tonight."  


Feuilly rolled his eyes, "Would you have run all the way back to your flat?"

"Grantaire's is closer to the University, I probably would have gone there." 

Feuilly just rolled his eyes and laughed. 

Jehan found the both of them cuddled together, their half-drunk teas cold on the coffee table, dirty plates resting dangerously on the arm of them couch, several hours later. He cooed over the sight of them before saving his china from it's perilous balancing act and texting Musichetta and Joly to let them know he had their boyfriend.  


**Author's Note:**

> PS. Remember to check out [les mis rare pair week](http://lesmisrarepairs.tumblr.com/). It's running from June 26-July 2nd, 2016 but if you're reading this after those dates, check out the masterlist (and I plan on keeping it active so if you're into rare pairs in general...check it out)!! /selfplug.


End file.
